


All I Do

by realjane



Series: Relentless (Hogwarts Era series) [8]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Room of Requirement, They say the words! THOSE words. To each other. They say them. I swear!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-09
Updated: 2021-01-09
Packaged: 2021-03-12 22:21:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,313
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28642884
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/realjane/pseuds/realjane
Summary: Draco's bad dreams come to a fever pitch, and an episode which could've easily ended poorly, but Hermione is keeping watch on the Marauder's Map. She goes to him.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy
Series: Relentless (Hogwarts Era series) [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2081031
Comments: 12
Kudos: 100





	All I Do

**Author's Note:**

> Part 8 of my Relentless series. In direct opposition to yesterday's silliness, have this v dramatic angst and comfort. I love them so very much. They beg for drama every day, and I just have to give in sometimes! They're in charge, not me!

_ All I ever do is run.  _

He scrubbed at his face--his skin was raw, he couldn’t stop fingering the raised scratch from his own desperate clawing in his sleep, and now his dream was manifested in angry red skin. Prickling, prickling, stinging like anything, water only made it worse, but maybe he deserved it. He doused himself in a shower of cool water from the tap--he was wet, the washroom was freezing, it stung and  _ all I do is run, and I’m so tired of running. _

He reeled back at the glimpse of his reflection. The mirror shattered beneath his fist, something new to sting,  _ fuck. _

Every knob cranked to cold, he punished himself in the relentless spray of the group showers, the pipes groaned from lack of use and did his bidding, like pin pricks of icy clarity. 

It had been a long time since he let it get to him, one of those old dreams, but this… never like this. He had never dreamed about Hermione this way. Even  _ when it happened _ at the Manor, he somehow never needed to process what she experienced, maybe he even didn’t care back then, didn’t have room for her in there between terror that his mother would be killed or tortured in front of him instead and the very real likelihood that he’d be the one made to do it--but now his heart beat because Hermione Granger pumped the poor bruised muscle, and this dream, this…

He watched Bella torture her and then he  _ ran  _ and saved himself, and he didn’t wake up until he heard the Dark Lord’s voice clear as anything announce  _ ‘The Mudblood is dead!’ _ If he saw her, when he saw her next, he’d… he’d never be able to look her in the eye again. How could he kiss her again? How could she bear it?

His head cracked back against the tile. He slumped down. Between his head and the cold water and the dizzying spiral of panic, Draco blacked out, temple pressed to the stones, willing himself to drown.

***

“Gods.” 

She poked his shoulder. “Wake up. Come on, Draco--oh gods, what have you done to yourself?” Hermione wrenched the knobs until the water ceased to pelt him. His lips were blue, he was shivering and soaked, and he seemed bent on remaining unconscious. She huffed. She would not panic, she would not. He had to get warm. His poor cheek… shit. His hand.  _ Draco, what happened to you? _

The stones were slippery, but she got her hands under his arms and dragged him over to the baths. How the hell did he wind up in the prefects’ bathroom? If it weren’t for the Marauder's Map she wouldn’t have even known, except that she was trying not to be clingy and just… look at his name on the map before bed, just in case, and then she watched his erratic footprints traverse much of the castle before he lingered outside the Gryffindor dorms, and then staggered on to his current location. It wasn’t her night for rounds, but Justin Finch-Fletchley always got his duties done before nine, so at least Draco wouldn’t be discovered by someone else before she could make it to him. Lucky she did.

As if the incident in the library didn’t give her a heart attack.

She eased him up the steps with  _ levicorpus,  _ and then down into the large basin. She sat with her back to the stone, Draco laid back against her, and flicked her wand so the faucet ran with warm water. Luke warm first--no sense shocking him out of his stupor--and gradually warmer. 

“Come on,” she murmured, against his hair. “Draco. What did you do, tell me. Wake up.” She rubbed his arms, his hands, his chest. His shallow breaths became deeper. He came to slowly.

“You passed out. We’re in the bath now, it’s just me.” Hermione grazed the edge of the cut on his cheek and he winced. “There you are. Hi.”

“Mmm.”

“Hey. Are you okay?”

His shaking hands rose out of the water and covered hers, which were gripped into the front of his shirt. “How’d you know I was here?” he managed.

“I had the map out.”

“Mm.” Draco tried to sit up but she held tight. His body was an icicle against hers.

“Just… relax, alright? You were  _ blue _ a few minutes ago.” Hermione kissed the shell of his ear and he jerked his head away shamefully. He clung tighter to her hands, but turned his face into her elbow. “Hey. It’s okay. Whatever it is, I’m here with you.”

He mumbled something into her soaked pyjama sleeve.

“What was that?”

“Why are you here?” he said. His voice was so broken, hurt, he was scraping the bounds of vulnerability and it was hurting him to do so.

“I was worried. I saw you stop outside the portrait, were you… did you need me?” She laid her head on his shoulder; it was as good of a view of his face as she could get, and his brows were furrowed deeply.

“No.”

“Okay.” She squeezed his hand. He slipped his fingers between hers but the ferocity of his grip was startling. “Well. You have me anyway.”

Draco turned on his side, between her knees, so his head was resting just on her bicep, but their clasped hands were his anchor to her. The warm water rippled with his movement. He seemed to be deciding whether or not to slip under it again, and she was determined not to let that happen. She didn’t know quite how to reach him like this.

“I’m here.”

"Fucking _freezing."_

"Whose fault is that again?"

“This is the ugly t-truth of me, Granger. Attractive, isn’t it?”

Hermione took a sharp inhale. “Draco… I know what I signed up for. If you think being dismissive will talk me out of it, you’re going to be disappointed.”

He laughed brokenly.

“Do you think I’m kidding?” She asked, squeezing his hand.

“I think you might be stupid.”

“To put up with you? Probably.” But she kissed his bicep, and smiled. “Tell me what’s wrong with you, or I’ll keep you prisoner in this bathroom for the rest of your life.”

“Melodramatic.”

“Look who’s talking.”

He craned his head back then and met her eyes. “It’s not easy for me to, um…”

“Take your time.” She pushed his hair back, off his forehead. He closed his eyes at the gesture and returned to the cradle of her elbow.

“Do you have dreams… you know. Like about the war, or--”

“Oh, loads of ‘em.” She loosened his tie from its knot and slipped it from the confines of his collar. He relaxed once it was gone, like he hadn’t even realized it was constricting him.

“I always run,” he said lightly. “Whatever the situation, I break out and run like hell.”

“Mhm.”

“But… usually it’s just me. And-and normally I can shake it off, but. Granger, do you ever think about when, uh, the Snatchers brought you to the Manor… all that?” 

It took her a moment, but she sighed. “Sometimes.”

“Well… I don’t. Ever. And I think probably because we’re--y’know, with what we’ve done, maybe it’s dredging some things up for me,” he said. He shook his head faintly. “But anyway. I was asleep and then… you were there. My aunt was just pacing around you, I don’t know if you were awake or not, but you weren’t moving, and she was babbling about what she wanted to do, was  _ going to do _ to you, and  _ in the dream _ I just turned and ran. It was like a labyrinth, the Manor, but I didn’t stop, I ran and ran and ran and then before I made it out… I heard  _ him.  _ And you were, in the dream I mean, you were dead. And I ran away.”

Hermione brushed his shoulder with her free hand. His body was finally feeling a decent temperature. “That sounds terrible.”

“I didn’t do anything, even though I could tell what was going to happen to you,” he said. “I can’t believe that even in my  _ subconscious, _ I’m a bloody coward.”

“Hey,” she said, drumming her fingers on his arm. “Hypothetical question: what would you do if someone threatened my life?”

“I’d kill them,” he growled. Hermione hummed quietly. 

“I know. You’d never let anything happen to me. You’d go to Azkaban if it meant I was safe, wouldn’t you?”

He pushed himself up to sitting and grasped her face, giving her a little shake. “Nobody will ever hurt you.”

“There you go. So.” She tapped his chin. “Why are you punishing yourself for something that you would  _ never allow to happen,  _ were circumstances the same in your waking life?” He visibly sank back on his heels. He obviously felt foolish, and that wasn’t her goal, but he looked away. Hermione grabbed her wand from the side of the bath. She pressed it to his busted hand, his cheek, then pulled him close. She kissed his forehead, and touched her wand to the back of his head. With each touch and murmured  _ episkey, _ his superficial wounds were healed. 

“You have a habit of harming yourself when you dream,” she said. “We should think about brewing you some Dreamless Sleep.”

Draco considered her from under heavy lids. He took her in, messy braids and fully clothed, sitting beside him in the bath in the Prefect’s bathroom, pointing her wand at him to fix whatever ailed him. 

“I don’t want to keep doing this to you,” he said. “But I don’t know how bad it might get.”

“Is it better if you’re not alone?” 

He shrugged. “Dunno. Never tried it otherwise.”

Her neck flushed; maybe she shouldn’t show it. She was well pleased that he’d never slept beside another person, but it also made her heart clench, because there was a reason for that… and it didn’t all have to do with the fact that he had rarely dated. She pulled up the stopper in the drain. She stood, and waved her wand over him so he was wordlessly dried off. Then, she turned the charm on herself. As the water spun down the drain, she helped him out of the bath. She surrounded him in a bubbled warming charm until he stopped shaking. He was solemn. 

Hermione sussed out that he hadn’t brought shoes or a wand with him, his only belongings were the clothes on his person. She pulled him from the bathroom. She didn’t press him to speak again, and sometime during their walk, he began holding onto her with both hands. They walked upstairs, instead of down. Past the Astronomy tower. Past the library. Past Gryffindor dormitory, and further, up more stairs. 

On the seventh floor, in a stretch of hallway that was only remarkable because there were  _ no doorways _ off of it, Hermione stopped walking. She held up her wand, shut her eyes, and wished.

_ I wish for a comfortable place to watch the sun rise. _

“What are we doing  _ here?” _

“Come on.” She turned the knob on the door, which had only just formed before her, and opened up the Room of Requirement. Inside, there was a small wood-burning stove, which lit as they entered, a sofa big enough for only two people, and a set of three large windows, which faced due East. 

Draco sat when she deposited him on the sofa, and then she conjured a blanket--hers, if the monogrammed corner of the fuzzy thing was any indication. She knelt between his knees, curled up against his chest, and pinned him down. A fluffy weight.

_ There, _ she thought.  _ There’s your security, and your warmth. You may not think you need it. But you have it.  _

Eventually, when it became clear that she did not intend to let him up, Draco’s hands curved around her waist. He adjusted her so she was higher up his body, so her head was within reach of his mouth, and his lips found her hair. He sighed, or… maybe finally allowed himself to take a deep breath.

“How is it…” He paused. He wrapped an arm over her, pressing her tighter to his chest. “That you are every good thing.”

She smiled into his shirt. “You should tell me  _ three  _ good things.”

_ “What?” _ He feigned incredulity, and it made her laugh.

“In general. Three of them.”

“You’re the  _ only  _ good thing in my life.” 

He surely meant it. Draco was melodramatic, but he was never one to use hyperbole for good. When he gave her a compliment, he was earnest. When he said  _ you’re the only good thing in my life,  _ he meant that by comparison to her, every single aspect of his life was lesser, poorly, or downright terrible. As much as she took pride in being a bright spot for him, she knew there were other things which he could be proud of, if only he took a moment to think. 

Hermione looked up at him and wrinkled her nose. “Three things, Malfoy.” 

The space between his name leaving her lips and his first thing was long and full of tension; he watched her, narrowed his eyes… put his head back against the arm of the sofa. She rested her chin on her folded hands, right over his heart.

“One… December Fifteenth. A most excellent day.”

“...Okay.”

“Copper--no.” He looked at her quickly, and then lay back again. “ _ Umber.  _ The perfect color.”

She giggled. “That’s two.”

“Chamomile.”

“Those are your three good things?” She didn’t mean to sound skeptical, but they were such strange choices… she figured he’d say something like “I got an Adequate on my last Potions essay.” 

He nodded. “December fifteenth--the day you followed me to Hogsmeade. Umber… the color of your eyes. Chamomile: the way you taste every morning, because you’ve always had a cuppa before you see me.” He kissed her forehead. “Wait! There’s four… I love you.”

Hermione sat back. The blanket fell to the floor. She stared.

“What? I broke the rules, but they are four  _ very good _ things--”

“You do?” 

Then, he got it. Draco brushed her cheekbones, and then her bottom lip. He nodded, just once, as his face reddened. 

“Yes, well. You see, there’s only one other person besides my mother for whom I would kill without regret,  _ one _ person who I dream about, one person who would fish me out of the Prefect’s bathroom, one single person in the whole of this world that I… I want to please. And-and show off, really. You’re just…” He stopped. He tugged on the tails of her braids. “Every good thing. Even when you’re nagging me, and by gods, Granger--you are a prize nag--not that you’re like a horse… you get what I mean. And I have been thinking about it for… weeks, now. Telling you. You deserve to know it. There are many things I do with you because I want to, and several I only do because I  _ love  _ you (like eating breakfast), but every morning I wake up and think, ‘get out of bed! She’s waiting!’ So.  _ Thank you  _ for coming to my rescue--apparently I need a savior more than I’d like to admit. I’d love it if you’d brew me some Dreamless Sleep, but I’d love it even more if you just… kept coming to find me, when I need finding. Can you do that?”

Hermione climbed him, knees bracketing his hips, arms around his neck, and his temple became a little damp because she was crying. It was relief and… disbelief, really. She sniffled.

“What is it?” he asked, kissing her cheek.

“You… you just scare the life out of me, and then you say such lovely things, and I’m just overwhelmed!” She sobbed a little in his ear. Draco shook with silent laughter. “But… but you must know that I love you, I resist shouting it at you every moment! You should hear how loud it is in my head when I see you every morning! I have to make myself calm down!” She sat back, tears streaming, arms flailing. “Why do you insist on making me so emotional?”

Draco held up his sleeve for her to wipe her face, which dispelled a bit of her hysteria. Hermione wiped her tears. She pretended to blow her nose on his hand. He pretended to let her. He urged her close by the front of her top. 

“Tell me every day. Whenever it comes to your mind.”

“You’re going to get very sick of it.”

“No, I won’t.”

“You’re going to feel stifled--”

“Hermione, you sit _ on me _ anytime we’re not around other people,” he chuckled. “If I was going to be stifled by you, I’d already know it. You’re like a… an adorable Grindylow.”

“I resent that,” she growled, even as she clamped on to his cheek with a smacking kiss.

He returned the affection with a peck on the nose. “Thank you for finding me. Who knows what would’ve happened by morning?”

“I shudder to think.” 

When she looked at him, after a long while of just holding him, he was bathed in the soft blue glow of dawn. The sun was rising. His energy was flagging. He was safe, on a sofa in the Room of Requirement, having gotten very little sleep, but that seemed to be okay. As long as his pride didn’t stand in the way, she could work on helping him find restful sleep. Dreamless, warm, safe, whatever he needed.

“I’m so tired,” he yawned, when the sun was threatening the crest of the distant hills. 

“Sleep, love.”

“Wish I could, but Slughorn will throttle me if I’m late to first period.”

“Draco. It’s  _ Saturday.” _

“Ah!” He nestled her between his chest and the back of the couch with a triumphant  _ thump. _ He shielded her a bit from the oncoming dawn, but she was squished into the cushions.

_ “Oof!” _

“We’re doing nothing today,” he whispered into her hair. “We’re sleeping.”

In all likelihood, she would need to get up at some point to work on her research for Ancient Runes, especially because they had a project due on Monday, but if it meant Draco actually closed his eyes and gave himself over to rest? She’d put it off. 

He had scared her, badly. If she never saw him with blue lips again, it would be too soon. Say nothing of bleeding from multiple places on his body, or the way he punished himself for not helping the dream version of her, or how apoplectic he was to be comforted, at first. But he gave in, he let her take care of him. It took a lot out of her, emotionally, to see him that way. It was in the little quiet moments between that she recovered. And of course, it didn’t hurt that he clung to her with the same ferocity in which she was invested in him, in every aspect of their lives. 

Classes were easier and harder, sharing them with Draco. Easier to stand, harder to follow. More motivation to go, but plenty of reasons to ignore the lecture entirely, like drawing on his notes to distract him… a recent favorite pastime. And they hadn’t yet mastered how to do their homework productively together. Usually it ended with them snogging, or staring at the stars, or just talking.

When you get to love a sleepless boy, who sometimes needs saving from himself… homework doesn’t matter so much. 

And when he loves you back? Hermione’s breath caught. Immediately, Draco held her closer, brushed her hair from her face.

“Love you,” she whispered.

She felt his lips curve into a smile on her forehead. “Love you, too.”

_ He loves me.  _

_ All he does is love me. _

**Author's Note:**

> Join me on Tumblr at TheSuperJane to add to my prompt list or just to chat!


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